


Local Idiots Adopt a Big Cat

by EverBrute



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora is secretly a nerd with the supernatural, All the characters will probably be there or at least mentioned, Catra just needs a hug, F/F, Human AU, It'll start with Glimmadora first and then start progressing to Glitradora, Lesbian Adora, Lesbian Catra, Originally it was written as a oneshot but then got out of hand, There's not going to be much drama, and Glimmer is just tired, bisexual glimmer, catra is a werecat, glitradora is endgame, intersex Adora, it's just meant to be kind of stupid, this is not going to be a very long series, trans Catra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverBrute/pseuds/EverBrute
Summary: Adora Gray has always been one to believe in the supernatural. So when she finds a large homeless cat in an alleyway, while alarming, decides it's her responsibility to take it home and care for it. Whether or not her roommate likes it.But when this abnormally large cat turns out to be a human being the next morning, they need questions answered. Especially when this creature is so familiar with Adora's forgotten past.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra/Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 198





	1. Scratches Fade, but Cats Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like this! I just wanted more Glitradora content because I don't see it often enough.

After weaving through the labyrinth of roads, the path eventually converged and unveiled the plaza. There’s a group of teenagers gathered together, huddled up against the cold; their numbers delighting laughter as they swapped an inside joke Adora couldn’t quite understand. Nor did she want to.

Even when it was deep into winter, it was still a large and lively university town. Bustling sidewalks, buses crammed into the streets, and bicycles being chained up next to buildings that were two to three stories high. Adora was a little saddened to see the coffee and antique shops were closed down for the holidays. Especially when it came to the florists who’s bouquets were usually out on the street in beautifully hand-weaved baskets. The flowers had tenacious blossoms, born to make beauty out of whatever hit them. Adora admired them. Especially admired the couple that took care of them. They made the city streets brighter and refreshed the air that they breathed with little payment in return.

Finally, Adora reaches into the grown dense and cluttered part of town that has become a sight for sore eyes. The place is a jumble of different styles and different periods. Certain details that were plucked out and then placed wherever were thought best; rickety wooden homes, marble and brick stood next to each other in a vague sense to match. Everything was beaten down and baked by the past summer’s sun--it was evident everywhere: in the air, in the saturated pastel colors, in the smell of homemade baked goods that were still sitting out on window sills to cool. It was all like overripe fruit and Adora was more than glad that it was hers to live in and walk by everyday.

With people determined to enjoy the time of Christmas cheer there were young kids still crowding the main streets, some dragged off by tired parents that were just tired and ill-looking. Adora diverts off the main road and zigzags in a series of interlocking alleyways without much thought. Fairy lights led her home like the North Star. It was her claimed North Star at least.

Then there’s the raspy mewl, a sound like laughter at a funeral. So out of place that Adora has to pause, her basket no longer swinging at her side as she pops an earbud out and listens.

Again, a mewl close yet far. Quiet yet just clear enough that she can easily connect the dots, gazing over at a threadbare mattress tossed beside a dumpster, where a rotting cardboard box laid under.

She spots the eyes first. The colors were of blue and yellow, yet they weren’t an easy shade to describe. It was as if one were green and yellow at once, and the other was a blue that was near violet; near the same depth of poison. Oddly feminine--human--compared to the well structured cat’s features. The heterochromic eyes give a slow blink, and Adora has already barely recovered from the intense stare. It was oddly communicating this former pain that didn’t equate to anything Adora knew. The eyes give a glare that froze Adora’s bones, like being ill-clothed in the middle of a hailstorm. 

Then the cat decides to slink out from the shadows like it was slowly poured out from a dark kettle.

“Oh.  _ Oh,  _ you’re big,” Adora mumbles, her stomach dropping.

This alley cat is not just big, but rather monstrous. A dirt-stained graying coat, knotted and twisted with months of assumed neglect. The ribcage’s bones edges protruded from its chest as its underfed frame slunk close. Its tail raises imperiously.

It stalks around its domain, perhaps now searching for human bones and muscles to lick with unregretful hunger. The lonely eyes meet Adora’s again, staring with a silent challenge for this stranger to dare feel pity for this malformed, sad animal. It was matted confetti, stinking worse than week-old roadkill in the summer heat. The paws aren’t far behind in being untreated, unclipped claws scraping against the concrete like a verbal threat.

It’s obvious this wild cat was known for being mean.

Adora, with her heart beating fast in her throat, still feeling like leftover scraps in front of this shiny coated creature--crouches down. She sees its pride suddenly bottle up, as perfect as the little confused  _ mrrp _ she gets as the cat acknowledges the sudden soft attention.

Adora has never seen a cat more misunderstood (still greasy), nor eyes that reached in and batted her soul around with such ease. It was obvious what was to be done. She was going to take this cat home and make it a throne of great velvet. Reaching into her basket, she pulls out packaged meat that was originally meant for holiday dinner with her roommate, but she was sure Glimmer wouldn’t mind too much when she brings this little darling home instead of the store-bought ham.

“You must be starving, huh?” It’s a dumb question and even the cat seems to know it. “It’s okay though,” she continues, “I’m going to take you home with me.”

Of course, the alley cat is more than skeptical even when Adora tears open the casing for the ham. It slips back a bit, and Adora spots the injury on its back paw. She frowns.

“Hey, here,” she slides over the styrofoam case over, “eat up little buddy.”

Slinking closer while Adora does the opposite, it quickly grabs the casing, scrambling back into its little home to chow down. If the cat had opened its mouth any wider it could have eaten the ham in a singular bite. It took off a quarter with massive gnashers and chewed it up with its mouth opening every time, treating Adora to the view of partially masticated slop.

It then seats itself across from Adora, just an arm length away. Personally, she could understand the abrupt manner. The cat had just inhaled everything, savoring its fix. 

Feeling silly, Adora lays down on her stomach too, continuing the one-sided conversation. “Did that taste okay? I would have cooked it for you, but,” shrugging, she eases a hand towards the big feline, “I’ll make you something better if you decide to come home with me.”

The alley cat digs its claws into the warm material of discarded rags that laid on the concrete. It doesn't move away when Adora pats it's greasy fur, scratching ever so gently. It starts purring, and suddenly this animal is cute and dependent; the beginnings of youth in its bones now revamped.

Adora slips her heavyset jacket off, gingerly wrapping the cat up. It nearly looks already deep in slumber, curled up against her arms and biceps. She insists that she’ll give this furry friend a good, proper name when she can come up with one.

********

Adora crosses over the threshold, the rose tuntured garden air giving way to the stronger smell of lemon scented bleach. She remembers that Glimmer had cleaned the porch, scrubbing the world away as Adora was walking out the door.

From the wintery cold, the heater of their apartment was a blessing to the skin. Adora hops out of her boots, tossing them away to the side of her to take care of later when Glimmer complains about tripping over them again. She enjoys the familiar many potted plants that reached upwards with broad and spreading leaves. All thanks to the lovely florists that they’re always keen to visit when they manage to convince themselves they need something more decorative again. 

She catches Glimmer’s smile then from the couch even in the dark that was only broken by the TV’s light, a soundless pleasantry that was natural, soft and warm. Adora quickly casts her eyes away, cheeks feeling heat. Staring into her eyes felt like some sort of professional mis-courtesy. She always loses as well. 

“Did you decide to cradle your choice of groceries and ditch the bag? I know you love your food, but . . .”

She stops, slacked jaw when Adora lets their new guest down who immediately scurries behind Adora. It was a poor attempt at hiding as the feline could still be seen no matter how much it curled into itself.

When it settles, Adora smiles. “I found a friend!” She peers towards her roommate, face resolutely impressed with herself.

“Yeah, I can see that.” What Glimmer means is why and how did Adora waste the time and energy--two things she hates wasting--trying to bring home a street cat? Hell, this can’t be some normal stray. This thing was huge.

“So, what do you think?” Adora opens her eyes wide, keeping her smile small when Glimmer doesn't offer any response. “It’s officially Christmas tomorrow, so I thought it would be nice to give this little guy--or actually--” she turns to glance at the cat-- “maybe this little girl a home.” She hopes her own amusement would in turn cheer Glimmer up.

Instead, Glimmer huffs. “So I suppose you expect me to shower this alley cat with affection, take care of it and forget about our plans?”

Adora’s heart sinks. No, that wasn’t what she meant at all. She has been waiting for those few extra movie nights, more of those scribbled notes of affection waiting on the fridge’s whiteboard and then eating some ice cream together in their pajamas. It was their thing.

“I mean, you don’t have to. I just want to give this buddy some shelter since it's supposed to snow heavily tonight.”

Glimmer looks downward briefly, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes, and then says, “no, okay. Sorry, I understand. Honestly, it doesn't matter. I just wanted a chance to sleep in still. Hopefully the vet can take it in.”

Adora is offered a cup of hot chocolate, made just how she liked it with extra tooth-rotting marshmallows and sugar. The stray doesn't fall too far behind in getting a treat as well when Adora tosses down a marshmallow when Glimmer wasn’t looking.

Their talk is littered with smiles, the gentle gazes and the relaxed nature of their faces. Adora’s talk always gives away her thought patterns; all of her jokes and wants are at the front and foremost, in turn making her voice loud and boisterous. Glimmer was just content to watch her go on. There’s just something that gives Adora away. Maybe her keenness to make others happy. Always that same way of seeking approval because she’s lived off praise her entire life.

But just then their dinner is announced by the beep of the microwave, and though Glimmer smiled at Adora with sympathy she was glad to have her interrupted in her story to take out their TV dinner. It’s practically tasteless, but neither have any energy to actually cook anything. Of course, Adora’s new friend doesn't mind that and ends up eating the entirety of it from Adora’s plate, and she lets her lick the plate clean of sauce. 

“If pussycat gets sick it’s your fault,” Glimmer states.

Adora shrugs, and runs her fingers through the silky tresses of the cat’s fur even when it hisses. “I’m willing to clean up any mess of hers just as long as she’s fed . . .” her nose wrinkles, “as well as bathed.”

Glimmer pinches her nose. “Okay, yeah, I was hoping you were going to say something about it before I did.”

With a quick hop and sudden renewed energy, Adora suddenly plucks the cat up where it was nestled on Glimmer’s jacket.

“Come on, kitty,” she coos, “time for a bath.”

Whether or not the animal understood the word “bath” or if it just didn’t like being picked up without warning, it started yowling, digging its claws into Adora’s flesh.

A war started as the cat managed to get out of Adora’s grasp, and both Glimmer and her had to chase after it, bumbling around and tripping over each other as the feline outsmarted them with simple grace.

********

When it was done and done--with new scars to tell stories of--the scrappy cat was slid into the water. The bath was most like a Roman bath to the animal, its trembling frame causing the slightest ripples in the large tub. Adora’s brain wandered to the image of imposing columns all around a rectangular pool. Each column linked up to near perfect archways and a curved ceiling that was inlaid with gold. The water itself would be as blue as glacier-ice. It was a pleasant thought just to ignore the pain when the cat started biting her again.

Adora washes her carefully with the soap Glimmer has begun to favor, (Adora blames Bow for it), scratching just behind its ears that ends up with a steady thrum of purrs. The smell was nice, but probably harsh to her furry friend’s nose. It was penitential and she will admit: sometimes Adora, herself, would indulge in the strong scent of sandalwood, cinnamon and pastel that would lavish deeply in her musk. She loved it. She knew Glimmer did as well. Most likely because that was just another common interest of theirs now. Now they would go to Bed, Bath & Beyond at the dead of night, sniffing candles and dote over the Arabian and Scottish fragrances.

From beneath the dirt, a welcoming little kitten emerges, the grime coloring the clean water from before a sick color of brown. Adora nearly could forget that this was the same cat that tore up her cheek with three distinctive marks that still stung under the bandage.

Adora offers a towel as a reward after rechecking the feline’s wound. It’s not as horrid as she thought. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

The cat hisses venomly at her. 

“Oh, don’t be overdramatic.”

Both were equally tired then, limp like wet laundry on a still day. Adora picks the cat up with the last of her strength, bumping open her bedroom door with her hip and laying the clean critter down on the bed. Even it had every muscle willingly be given into gravity and it plops down with a sigh. What Adora wants is her nice warm bed and a solid night of good dreams, but her ADHD won’t let her. Her room is a mess. Workout equipment was in chaos from use earlier in the day, scattered over the floor under her punching bag. Papers for her research college project was sprawled over her easy chair and desktop. She should really try putting them away the first time before she leaves for a walk, just for once to try and stick to her resolutions for New Years. It would be nice to wake up to a clean room, or maybe without the guilt when Glimmer takes it into her hands to tidy up things while she’s off at work.

Tomorrow she knows she has nothing to do but enjoy the day with her roommate, sit on the cushions, leave their ass prints on them and argue over what to watch on TV. A routine she’s grown fond of. Then she could get to cleaning and maybe try baking some of those sugar cookies Glimmer adores.

Tugging off her shirt and pants, Adora then pulls up her laptop, the light a gentle reminder in the dark that the feline was still kneading the covers at the end of the bed. Its tail was slightly twitching in an emotion Adora could only assume was content. At least she hoped it was. No sooner has her bedroom door clicked open again there’s a clatter, and the street cat is up on the floor, fur spiked, rearing up, hissing at the intruder.

“God, that cat is going to claw my eyes out!”

“As if she didn’t already try that earlier, Glim,” Adora laughs. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“Just wanted to wish you a goodnight and . . .” she trails off seeing the mess that was her room, but was polite to not say anything about it. “Uh, is pussycat going to be alright?”

Adora glances at said cat who was still bristling. “She should be. I think you just startled her.”

Glimmer shakes her head, chuckling. “I am pretty scary aren’t I?”

“Apparently.” Adora grins despite the abhorrent hissing beside her bed. Glimmer was the exact opposite of scary. Any attempts ever at being intimidated were always in vain. How  _ could _ Adora fear such a tender heart-shaped face?

“So, how did the bath go with pussycat over there?”

She shows off her scratched up hands and arms, and that gives a good enough answer in itself. “Although,” Adora says, “she started to calm down after I just scratched her behind the ears. I’ve found she really likes that.”

She huffs, carefully making her way closer as the hissing seems to quiet down. She takes interest in Adora’s computer then. “Whatcha up to there?”

“Decided I wanted to read some stories.”

“Anything good?”

“Eh, not yet. Although this one has an interesting beginning from what I’ve skimmed. Want to hear some of it?”

Glimmer doesn't hesitate to slide in beside Adora. “I always love a good bedtime story.”

“Well, these are horror stories--”

Glimmer holds her hand up. “Adora, that makes it even better. Go on now, I want to hear it.”

Clearing her throat, she started as she was told to. Adora poured her voice into the words. Her conscious mind hears and reads all of it, but her mind underneath was like a skim reader, only picking up words of particular significance that Glimmer may ask her about later. Right then and there, she was distracted by that same woman that sat beside her. The words upon the screen she speaks in the natural rhythm her emotions commanded, enrapturing her and her friend in a world of grim fantasies and twisted characters. 

And Glimmer all at once was swept up in Adora’s voice; that gentle rasp, the roll of her tongue, the way her mouth curls around the words. Slowly, she really was falling in love. Maybe it wasn’t just her voice, but her lips. She couldn’t stop staring. The way they would purse, crinkle into a small smile, pinch into a pout. Everything.

Like a ridiculous princess protagonist, even that wild ass creature was now a tender house cat with Adora, curled up against her thigh, chest moving only slightly to prove it was still very much alive to the world.

Glimmer’s thoughts slowed in a carousel--something of nonsense. Every word of the story, every notion just replayed as the carousel would spin again in its slow circle, forcing her to reanalyze and pay attention. It only stopped when she heard a throaty hum, and realized Adora was dozing, her eyes glazed over, and her thoughts meandering freely. It was a gentle precursor as they were both equally starting to drift off. Glimmer didn’t even know how long they’ve been reading stories. It started with one, and then Glimmer pointed out another, and then another and another before they got here.

She sees the cute dopey smile from Adora when their eyes meet until she looks away. It was enough for that carousel in Glimmer’s head to start up again. It was all like a blanket, covering her head to toes, a familiar mulling warmth that makes her stomach hum when, again, Adora and her glance at one another. Adora’s ocean of blues is opened and then closed, a definite pattern from the light of the computer.

Glimmer’s lips quirk up in a kind of smile.

Adora blinks, confused, her eyelashes brushing against her forehead. It nearly makes Glimmer’s breath stop, realizing they were so close.

Glimmer just shakes her head.

Trying to hide her smile just makes Adora roll her eyes. Of course, no malice was there because her body wasn’t built for such. She nuzzles into her shoulder, dirty blonde hair inches from Glimmer’s nose. She could smell that scent that could only ever be hers: sandalwood underlying the sweetening vanilla. 

After a few agonizing minutes of gentle breathing into the hollow of her neck, Adora goes limp and Glimmer lets her smile go wide and huge, easing an arm around her shoulders, cradling her stupidly taunt body to her bosom. She snaps the laptop closed, laying it down onto the floor.

Tucked into a small ball, the feline was pooled into a blob of fur, still straight up against Adora’s ample thigh. It was just a thought, but suddenly her arm is up, and she’s dragging her fingers through the fur, actually admiring Adora’s handiwork. She was so soft and she then understood why Adora enjoyed petting animals; it was therapeutic. She remembers when Adora took a sudden sprint across the street while they were walking to greet someone. For her to then just pet their two dogs and coo over them. It was a relief the stranger didn’t mind and they actually hit it off and exchanged numbers afterward. Adora had that crackheaded energy that was oddly endearing considering she was always very sober.

The cat gives a sleepy mewl and that too was enough to give a nice flopping jump in Glimmer’s stomach. Damn it. It’s unfair that the little bastard got to abuse her earlier that day and then has the audacity to be adorable like this. Only Adora should be able to get away with being somewhat bratty and then make up for it later with something simple yet so her: unconsciously bouncing in her seat, tangling her hand in Glimmer’s hair when a movie proves to be boring and she just has to fiddle with something otherwise she’ll die, or when she hums and dances when she makes dinner or popcorn and she thinks she’s all alone.

With her arm still wrapped around Adora, her breath now soft, the little fiery spark in her is now lain and cherubic on the bed. Sleep came easy, like the falling of a heavy axe.

********

The scream tore through Glimmer like a great shard of glass. Immediately she’s up straight onto her feet, wide-eyed, pulse quickening, heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. Blood drains from her face realizing her comforting warmth was gone along with the cat.

That’s when there’s commotion out in the kitchen.

She wasn’t even aware of her making a conscious decision before her legs were pounding down the hallway furiously, ears straining, arms up and in front of her.

The sight of a stranger hooded in a blanket made her freeze. They weren’t short, but only barely tall enough to stand up against Adora. Their shoulders were squared, hands gripping tightly onto the blanket to keep their identity hidden. Although the bare legs under it made her think they didn’t even have clothes. Something pierced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway. Adrenaline surged through the veins with fight or flight. Be the hero--Adora’s hero--or take her chance to run and try and call the police. The decision was quick and easy.

Hysterical and in disbelief, Glimmer charges the stranger. Her back meets the ground, air knocked out of her so fast she thought she wouldn’t be able to catch another breath when the stranger sweeps her legs out from under her with a kick.

“Just let me explain myself!” they shout. Glimmer realizes the voice is feminine, rather raspy even when she’s yelling. 

“Do it then!” Adora demands. “You literally have no other option.” Glimmer wanted to laugh at Adora as she was only in a tank top and boxers, waving around a pan as though it was her last line of defense.

The woman breathes slowly, back against the corner. “Alright, I don’t know how to start--”

“Your name,” Glimmer states, cutting in sharply as she crawls back up onto her feet. “Give us your name.”

Sighing, with a brief moment to nibble on her lower lip, she mumbles, “I’m the one who was in your home last night. My name is Catra.”

No follow up. No middle or last name. No genuine explanation or admitting it all was a joke set up by their friend. Glimmer starts laughing. It wasn’t really that funny--this situation wasn’t funny--but she needed to do something other than want to strangle this stranger.

“What kind of name is Catra?” she sneers. “Who named you?”

The stranger actually snarls, something that was primal and throaty. “ _ I _ did actually.”

Another ugly snort. “Of course the stranger that thinks they’re a cat would name themselves Catra!”

“Oh yeah? And what kind of name is Glimmer Moon? Daughter of fucking  _ Angella and Micah Moon.  _ You guys sound like you come straight out of a fairytale.”

That’s when she pauses. Now it’s replaced with the same burning anger from before mixed with distorted terror. “How the fuck do you know any of that?”

Catra looks over to Adora then, glossing over Glimmer’s rage. “And you probably have somewhat of the most normal name between the three of us, Adora Weaver. Well, now it’s been changed to Adora Gray since you’ve moved away.”

Said woman cringes, disbelief making her eyes wide. “How--?”

“Because I’m the cat you took in! The one in the alley way that you fed the raw ham! You laid on your stomach, trying to appear as non threatening as possible. That was you and you were talking to me.”

Adora is shaking her head, pan left on the countertop now. “That’s not even possible!”

“Oh, but it is.” She tugs up the blanket that she was using to cover herself. The two thought she was about to flash them until something long and furry slipped down.

A tail. A cat’s tail.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” Glimmer yells. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Adora is quiet, gathering whatever barings she has left and braves the question: “okay, okay. Wait, if you’re supposedly not human: then what are you?”

“You’ve heard of werewolves right?” she waits for their nods, “well, I’m . . . I guess I’m what you would call a werecat.”

The silence that falls over them is deafening--worse than that; it’s suffocating.

Catra slips the blanket down to expose her head. Her hair that was a matted mane matched the cat’s by color; the same near pastel, dark velvety brown. The tail . . . Glimmer and Adora still weren’t over that . . . it was black like the furry pointed ears that poked through the mess of tresses; a deep contrast to her flush and red cheeks. Then her eyes . . . 

Both of their heads were collectively swimming, and they had to sit down after Adora decided to get Catra some loose fitting clothes from her closet. If they were to talk, they should all be dressed.

Her eyes were yellow and blue they realized. That same acid spitting yellow and the sapphire blue that had sparkled ever so briefly when Adora had scratched her tailbone where her tail started. Adora had basically just nearly pet a human’s ass last night, and that almost made Glimmer want to giggle. But nothing came out. Not yet as Adora and Catra started talking quietly. Adora sits herself on the couch with her roommate, while their guest just found a spot on the carpet.

“Look,” Catra sighs, “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Actually, I’d like to think I’m doing pretty okay with this,” Adora gives the driest chuckle Glimmer has ever heard from her, “I mean, I kind of always believed in the supernatural.”

“Yeah, I think everyone just about knew that,” Glimmer speaks. “You’ve told everyone you saw a unicorn.”

“An alicorn!” Adora corrects with a whine. “I’ve told you that many times.”

Glimmer holds her hands up, snickering and even Catra is raising a curious brow.

“So, you two actually believe me?” Catra asks.

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Glimmer shrugs. “I’m just at a loss for words,” she admits. “The most I’ve ever believed in were ghosts, but this is really just something else.”

“If this is some sort of prank though please own up to it now,” Adora murmurs, so earnest that if this did turn out to be a joke set up by one of their friends (probably Seahawk), Glimmer would consider them a monster for lying to that puppy look Adora has on her face.

Catra raises her hand, scout’s honor. “I swear, this isn’t a joke or a prank. You have my word.”

Glimmer and Adora spare a glance at each other. Although a stranger’s word shouldn’t mean anything to them, it’s all they had.

“I think . . . I think I’m going to get something to drink,” Glimmer mumbles, and pads into the kitchen, complaining about her sock being wet from water on the floor.

Adora offers a hand to Catra, eyes crinkling because of the ginger upturn of her lips as she observes their guest. “So, how do you feel about having breakfast?”

The werecat looks astounded, blinking her mismatched eyes of jewels. “You’re not going to throw me out and scream at me?”

Adora shakes her head, seemingly amused by such a prospect. “You don’t really scare me, and plus, I have a lot of questions to ask you. Now, what do you think about chocolate chip pancakes?”

Catra stares at this woman. This exceptionally kind human being that doesn't even fully know everything about Catra and why she was there. Probably won’t even know soon enough.

Catra takes her hand firmly. “I think I would like that.”


	2. It Really is a Small World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is rather short. I had intended to write more, but decided to save what happens for the next chapter.

“Look, I know you did your best, but it just wasn’t enough.”

The flames and the smoke had taken their attention, but the solution was always right at the ignition point. Just before the flames could have reached any higher, Adora had grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge and poured it over the fire, extinguishing her mistake in white before it could become worse. What was supposed to be fluffy chocolate chip pancakes--something to be drenched in sticky syrup and melting butter--was now nothing more than charred black pieces of broken dreams.

Adora, face flushed, rubbing the back of her neck, says, “you know how I’ve never really considered myself a cook--” smiles and then just brightens “--but hey, we can just try again!”

Glimmer laughs. Now that she wasn’t in a panic, she could pat Adora’s shoulder with good humor. “More like  _ I’ll _ be trying again. Now g et out of my kitchen, I need to clean up your mess and find a different pan.”

Adora is shooed out even when she argues that it wasn’t even completely her fault their breakfast was dust. There’s barely the quiet clang of pans and gushing water from the faucet before music starts playing vehemently, assumingly from Glimmer’s phone. The Latin music gets cranked up, distracting Adora from the smell of leftover smoke and the fact that she had planned to talk with Catra since the very time the sun was streaming through the curtains. Somehow the savory aroma of sweets gets infused with the beats, and it feels like Adora’s gliding towards the dining table where their guest sat. Adora could eat the air and drink the symphonies, so heady is the fragrance of cooking batter and the melody of the  Güiro.

As Adora sits, finally paying attention she notices how Catra looks out of place. She’s actually younger than Adora had expected. She has a grown-up regal look, only youth saved because there’s a few fresh scars poking above the neckline of her light shirt, marrying around her collarbones. Her hair has now gotten the same floppy locks like Adora’s since her shower yesterday and it looks combed as Catra mindlessly drags her fingers through it. When the mop of dark hair is out of her face, Adora realizes how troubled she looks--how she’s always looked like that. All the softness of a child replaced by sharp edges, downcast eyes and chiseled lines.

But, no, the softness does remain. Right there on her lips, below the freckles that dot her cheeks and nose. It’s that same red supple dent, the tender curve that always was crooked and chapped.

“Adora?”

Adora’s mouth is almost too dry, tongue a slab of wet cement settling. She nods like an idiot, croaking “yes?” Had she already been caught staring?

“You have questions. So start. We probably have a lot to cover.”

Now that Adora sits closer after scooting her chair over, she sees it’s easier to observe discreetly. It’s natural to look her way as they begin a quiet conversation over Glimmer’s phone and her solitary singing.

Catra’s not tall at all. Only north of average height and she must have had a manual job before her life on the street. Even scrawny her muscles are obviously still there; taunt and wound up. Adora toys with the idea of asking more about her; ask where she has been for most of her time, but stops short. Glimmer would probably like to join them. 

“How’s your cheek?” Catra asks.

“My cheek?” Adora’s fingers idly go up to touch where she’s pointing and realize she’s talking about the bandage, “oh! Yes, my cheek! It’s fine. I don’t really even feel it anymore. I could probably take it off by now.” But she doesn't make the move to actually do it.

Catra nods slowly, eyes lingering over her face before she looks down at her lap.

Now Adora would tack the word shy onto Catra. Not an introvert who feels power in being alone, but rather she just didn’t know how to interact with those around her. She almost looked more fragile than the glass unicorn that sits up on Adora’s dresser. But Adora doesn't dare actually think of her as weak. She lived on the street before, and that isn’t easy. It’s hard to get her attention under the mop of hair that dominates her narrow face, casting shadows over the jeweled eyes hidden somewhere. It’s like she’s trying to take up even less space than she already does as she shifts in her seat.

Adora thinks of her as a mimosa plant; or the shameplant; something known for the grown curiosity of its value: she would fold away and droop when touched, defending herself from harm and will only reopen later when she was certain it was safe.

Stupidly, the next word she tacks onto Catra is cute.

The lyrics swum through as a wakeful dream when Glimmer flips through to a different song before she pops her head out.

“Sorry, forgot to ask, do you guys want anything to drink?”

Adora shrugs. “I’ll get it when I want something. How about you, Catra?”

Catra looks a little startled to being referred to. “Oh, uh, I’m not particularly thirsty right now. Thanks though.”

Both Glimmer and Adora look to each other and pass a silent message between each other through their gaze alone:  _ make sure our guest is hydrated _ .

“Alright, well, pancakes are done,” Glimmer jerks her thumb behind her, “Adora, get your butt in here and give me a hand.”  


They set the small dining table before a plate of pancakes was set in front of Catra. Just from the smell alone, they were the type that had graced the hearths of many homes: fluffy, golden-brown, and heavenly sweet.

Catra’s stomach growls and she squirms, wishing the rumbling would silence. She should let Adora and Glimmer eat first when they’re ready. She swallows back a pool of salvia. Catra casts her eyes down as the humans’ conversation filters through her ears. She realizes then the borrowed clothes are two sizes too big, the sleeves flopping over her hands and the pant legs too long as they pass her toes. She looked as stupid as a clunking capon, her grace dissipating as she tried preventing her face scorching uncomfortably into a beat red. The hunger was still ever-present and she grimaces as her stomach twists.

The silvery melody of a drawled voice behind her startles her and she twists around.

“Ah, so you  _ can _ hear me, pussycat.”

“Glimmer, don’t scare her,” Adora gently scolds from the kitchen doorway.

Catra blinks, mumbling “huh?”

“I asked if you like orange juice, apple juice or neither.”

Catra wrinkles her nose at the mere mention of orange juice. Oranges in her mind are just prime vile, pulpy fruits. Lured in by a bright coating and the promise of a sweet snack before biting in and realizing all she gets is seeds and dry juice and then tough inner skin.

“Apple juice,” she states. “Who actually drinks orange juice?”

“I do,” Adora says, pouting, comically having a glass of said juice in hand.

The mere scent Catra catches as Adora walks past her makes her rub her nose. “How?” she questions. “Oranges are chewy and flavourless just as it is! Making it into liquid doesn't help.”

Adora laughs with heart. “Bottom line, Catra: several health benefits,” she raises her hand to count off her fingers, “improved heart health, decreased inflammation, and a reduced risk of kidney stones,” she winks, “as well as vitamin C of course.”

Catra groans. “You are  _ not _ trying to pitch orange juice at me right now because of what you’ve read off Google.”

Again, she laughs and then takes a large gulp from her glass to prove a point and Catra gags. 

“I know it may seem like it,” Glimmer says, setting a glass of apple juice for Catra, “but Adora isn’t actually a health fanatic.”

“Really hard to believe,” Catra grumbles.

“I know, I know, but you should see the amount of sweets she stuffs herself with.”

“But I balance it out!” Adora quickly interjects. “Like, today, I’m having orange juice, pancakes and fresh blueberries.”

“Chocolate chip pancakes,” Glimmer corrects and gestures to her plate, “which, may I add, you’ve drowned in syrup and butter.”

Flustered and without argument Adora just stuffs her cheeks with food.

Catra is surprised she finds the interaction endearing. They always seemed perpetually in a good mood, content with everything. They looked straight out of a TV advert. Seeing them with their perfect white teeth and perfect BMI; they’re just always smiling and laughing. Their home is beautiful, with its rich green plants as decoration. They even sat in just the right spot for the sun to cast halos upon them. Adora, five foot six, had a face cut straight out from a model magazine; strong and defined. She was handsome and pretty all the same, jaw curved gracefully, strength shaped in the twining cords of muscle that was obvious in her entire body. Then there was Glimmer that had stopped growing at five foot three, with delicate supple features that didn’t betray how willing she was to throw a punch even if it broke her delicate fists. She’s larger than life, personality obvious by the prominent pink and purple dyed hair. Catra supposed someone could call her chubby, when she would just say she was as tender as a ripe nectarine. 

Catra pursued the meal in front of her, ignoring her frumpy clothes, the mixed scent attached to the cotton, and of the realization that Adora’s charming smile wasn’t filling her with a swell of happiness like it should. In the sunlight that didn’t quite reach over to her side of the table Catra looks like a shadow just as much as she felt like one. She didn’t want to put a name to the feeling that was suddenly twisting her guts into something painful and hollow. That would make it real. Make her realize that it was just another problem she had to correct by herself.

She thinks of Adora though. She was always the belle of the orphanage back then. She was the human blackberry bush. An orphaned little girl that trampled up the sidewalks, played outside until dusk to dawn in the woods. The normal kids with their parents only ever saw the thorns and strayed away; where the rest of the orphanage only saw the sweet berries like Catra had. Adora was the most unassuming of gifts, pristine and pure.

Adora is suddenly giggling, as quiet as it is, her muscles are shaking and tears line her half-closed eyes. Glimmer whispers something else in her ear and they both dissolve into a puddle of laughter together, and Catra is just too focused on getting her fill to even ask what was so funny.

There’s faux wonder in Adora’s eyes when she turns to their guest, scooting her chair over again. “Okay, so, open dialogue, right? We have questions that need to be answered.”

Catra squares her shoulder, forgoing her food to give them her full attention. “Well, go on then.” 

“Alright, great! Glimmer, I think you had a pressing question?”

“Yeah, so,” she clears her throat, “what the hell? Have you been trying to look for one of us specifically or are we just the few that have stumbled upon your existence?”

Catra purses her lips. It wasn’t just quite one or the other. “The latter mostly, but,” her eyes flick over to Adora, “I’ve seen her before.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise,” Adora says with a chuckle, “I’m kind of known around here.”

It wasn’t quite what Catra meant, but that gave Adora a transition into the next question. “So, how did you know that stuff about us? You know, Glimmer’s parents and especially my old last name. That’s what I really need to know about.”

And immediately Catra is backed into a corner. “Well, I knew about Glimmer because of her family’s huge company line. They’re, like, known millionaires or something.” Glimmer groans. “And, well, I know about your last name, Adora, because of a photo with an older woman on your dresser.”

Adora’s eyebrows pinch together. “Do you . . . also know her?”

“She was one of the people there who ran the orphanage I went to. So, yeah, I’m pretty familiar with her.” Catra really wishes she wasn’t though.

Everyone has their reasons for being how they are. Some passed around by troubles, others stuck in the most simple mode of fear, loving responses absent. Her hatred of Catra was nothing but a transformation of her own shame and insecurities. All that hate that she wasn’t strong enough to face and so lost herself in it; casting herself the victim and the leading lady instead of swallowing an ounce of truth. Catra had gotten used to seeing everyone’s flaws and faults; the worst you could see in a human being. It’s almost laughable. Because hate can be a protective force, and that woman held a lot of it.

Adora leans back in her chair, astonishment clear on her face. “So, you went to the same orphanage I did. But,” she shakes her head, “I don’t think I ever saw you. Which is odd,” she murmurs, eyes still keened on her, “because you do look familiar. I mean, surely I would have remembered a werecat as a child.”

Catra feels the deep sweltering pinch of something in her gut. The muscles on her face just seem to pause, slacken. That woman in the orphanage would create problems, never find solutions and would turn around and blame Catra. Suddenly she’s the monster. Suddenly the leading lady has found the conflict to her story. The blame is then on Catra, tell her at a young age she was the reason; the reason Adora ran away.

“Catra?”

The gentleness catches her off guard and she blinks up at the owner of it.

“Are you okay?” Adora asks.

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“You just . . . look upset.”

Catra knew she had the tone of a sulky querulous child, but she couldn’t make herself care. “Yeah, it’s okay. You know, bad past or whatever.”

Adoa looks the most concerned out of the both of them. Whether or not she remembers, it was still there in the fragments of her mind. A stain of gray that coated over her memories of the past.

“Well, if you’re uncomfortable we can stop here.”

“No, it’s okay. You need answers and I have them.”

“But--”

“You’re still suspicious of me aren’t you?”

It’s like they were struggling to compensate for the tense silence. It was puzzling to look into their collective gaze, see the question was weighing them down. Why wouldn’t they be suspicious after all? Catra was sitting there in one of their clothes, eating another’s cooking, something supernatural right in naked eye and she was just across from them. In their reality; in their space.

Suddenly she didn’t want to sit and eat. Odd since she’s rarely ever had a full meal. Perhaps because she knew the human flesh was a facade of something visibly vulnerable when she was really of hard-packed muscles and fur; less stable, less honorable. To her, she had no definite color; no shades of gray. It was black or white; right or wrong; monster or human.

Sighing, Catra gestures loosely. “Go on. What else do you have to ask? We’ve barely even scratched the surface.”

They look like they may not actually speak until Glimmer starts, “what were you planning? Like, were you planning on living with us as a cat and have it be that?”

Catra scoffs then laughs harder than she intends. “ _ Hell no _ . Honestly, I was going to escape the early morning. But guess I got distracted, and caught up on the fact I had no clothes.”

“Then what? You used Adora’s kindness then you were just going to up and leave?”

Adora smacks Glimmer’s arm.

Catra wants to be angry at such a blatant accusation, but she realizes it really does look like that. “No, of course not! I was just going to leave and then try and talk normally with Adora. Meet her like I was also a human.”

“Why are you just specifically targeting Adora then?” Glimmer continues. “I know you’ve said you know her in the past, but it’s weird you’re making the sudden effort to see her now.”

Catra narrows her eyes. “Maybe because I didn’t even realize she was  _ here _ in this specific town. How could I? She could have been countries away for all I knew.”

Glimmer’s fingers held straight as if their aerodynamic form could conceivably make the anger sated. She just sighs, pushes the ugly head of frustration down and nods. “Fine. Guess I can’t say you would have known. The orphanage is, like, two towns over anyways.”

Adora looks between them, her eyes of perfect blue raindrops narrowed yet they weren’t hardened. Just touched with an inkling of wistfulness “So you’re from my childhood. Someone I had grown up with. I just,” she gnaws on her lower lip, “I really want to remember who you are. You’re  _ so  _ familiar, but I just can’t pinpoint you. . . .” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “But that just means I’ll just have to get to know you, right? We’ll just have to rekindle what we lost.”

A spread of warmth fills Catra’s chest, hope beading over her skin, but Glimmer then takes Adora’s hand, and says “excuse us for a moment.” Catra already knew what was going on as Glimmer drags Adora away into the kitchen, but she leans over, perking an ear up to listen. Glimmer wasn’t as quiet as she probably wanted to be.

“Adora, seriously, I just don’t know if we can trust this.”

“Why not? It’s not like she’s faking being a werecat! I mean, did you see that tail? Did you see it twitching by itself? That’s all real!”

“I’m not even questioning that part actually. I’m more suspicious of the fact she says she knows you and only now wants to see you. I don’t know, I just feel like there’s something off.”

“But she grew up with me! She was there in the orphanage with me, Glimmer. That’s vital. You know this.”

“Adora, I know you want to find out more about what happened when you left, but I’m just saying, what if this isn’t it? What if this is too good to be true?”

Catra can practically hear Adora slump her shoulders. “Can’t I at least try and ask her?”

“Of course you can,” Glimmer soothes. “I’m not even trying to dissuade you because I know you’re hard headed,” they share a gentle chuckle, “I just want your expectations to be realistic. Plus, getting to know a werecat? That’s not just something that happens everyday.”

Their voices continued in a muffled plume and Catra couldn’t even begin to try and focus back in on them. She was trying to swallow the anger while it was still a little flame, and let it grow in her stomach until she decided it would come out and tear down everything in a blazing inferno. She realizes she may be overreacting but when the two step out afterwards, Glimmer almost criminally professional, Catra lets herself be temporarily sympathy-deficit. The sympathetic services will resume later anyways.

Adora sits again while Glimmer grabs her plate and glass to wash. There’s a different air around Adora who has seemingly given up on her soppy pancakes, sipping on her orange juice as she smooshes her fist into her cheek, her jaw at an uncomfortable angle. She stayed like that, eyes onto something in the kitchen (probably Glimmer) before speaking, “sorry this hasn’t been maybe what you’ve expected. This isn’t exactly the impression I was wanting to give you.”

Catra half smiles, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been with you for just a night and barely breakfast, and you’re already patronizing me.”

Adora stifled laughter and looked at her. How could that face--even with a hard jaw and bold eyes--ever try sugarcoating antagonism at her?

“Sorry, but I’m being genuine here. We’ll figure this out together.”

Catra leans into that; the underlying of an oath before asking, “you promise?”

She can’t believe it, but Adora’s eye actually twinkles. “I promise.”

Catra tries not to feel so hopeful at that. Trying not to notice how she sat taller, feeling lighter, the new determination revived like that of a spider that was willing to fasten its intricate web again and again when it was damaged. She crosses arms, her lip twitches and Adora was certain she was fighting not to have her smile get wider. “Then okay,” Catra relents, easing back into her chair, “I’m going to take your word on that. So, in return, by next full moon I’ll give you something interesting that you can’t ever forget.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer: I don't know, Adora. Catra kinda sus.


	3. An Unexpected Addition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain horse is found and Adora wants to keep him.  
> And Bow makes a small appearance.

The sunlight is bright, casting the birds above into dark shadows against a backdrop of a perfect pale blue. Their wings beat, hugging the air as they drift along to wherever their journey lies.

They emerge out from the porch. Adora raises a hand to the brilliant rays, eyes already beginning to accustom to the brightness that was much different to when the light filtered through their satin curtains inside. Under the sun her sweater was a cherry red of close-knit wool with a crudely stitched design of a gold sword on her chest pocket. It was a gift from Glimmer’s aunt. She was a walking target, unlike Glimmer and Catra who just wore dull jackets (Catra’s hoodie popped up to hide her ears and her tail stuffed away), weighed down by cloth, stuffing and durability. Adora’s sweater was unrestricted as she wanted to move swiftly and freely.

“Adora! Be careful or you’re going to slip and bust your ass!” Glimmer calls after her friend’s receding back, “and I’m not taking you to the hospital.” 

But Adora laughs, and springs around just to walk backwards as they followed after her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be just fine. Come on, you guys are slow and I want to get to the woods already!”

“It’s only 10:30. We have time,” Catra grumbles.

There was a moment where they considered staying inside. When breakfast was considered done (and Adora didn’t eat anything other than a granola bar), Bow suddenly video called them. They talked about everything; and there was constant laughter in his eyes, twitching his lips into a grin. He talked as he walked around the house he was staying in, stepping up from his spot on the porch before heading inside something that looked like a kitchen. He loved telling about their Christmas dinner where Seahawk just had to sing the traditional seasonal songs. The feast was apparently more sweet than savory, but they had laughed with heart and slept with sore stomachs. They would put mash potatoes and chocolate cake on the same plate and sit everywhere around the house other than at the dining table; the couch for the Tv, the floor when spots on the couch were filled, the porch for the gorgeous sunset, and even the basement stairs because the walls were painted in a continuous image of the sea as though you were going down the gullet of an underwater cave. Which was exactly the last place the call was held. Bow wanted to show off their collective hard work, and they couldn’t blame him. It was stunning.

Adora was a little saddened that they didn’t go with Bow when they could. At least before the sudden snow storm that kept Glimmer and Adora locked inside, but neither could have hoped for a better time. The two danced together to music, and Adora still couldn’t remember where the want to do so came from (maybe because of the cheesy Christmas movies that played on repeat), but it still warmed her heart to think back to it. The music threaded them together, Glimmer resting her head on Adora’s chest for the shortest time but the warmth never leaving Adora that night. No matter how she tried forcing herself to sleep, she couldn’t stop her mind replaying the two of them gliding along the floor in clumsy socked feet, sweaty palms clasped together, drifting under the fairy lights.

“Okay, so, we go in and then what?” Catra asks.

Adora pauses at the treeline of the seemingly ominously quiet woodlands. The dappled shade of the trees was welcoming to Adora, the sun casting the untouched snow as pristine. Glimmer didn’t doubt that Adora could wander through the woods and enjoy the feeling of being lost, maybe collecting some pretty holly and the occasional odd rock for an art display or two. Although art was never really her thing. The animals of the forest have their shy ways of being known; if someone were to count the claw marks in the bark that would lead to the telltale of bears hunting out grubs or perhaps wolves marking territory. It was everything Adora loved and everything Catra knew they grew up in.

Glimmer holds up her arms. “Welcome to the Whispering Woods!” she cheers.

“The Whispering Woods?” Catra parrots, glancing up through the thick branches. “Please don’t tell me there’s a ghost story that goes with this place and that’s where it got its name.”

Adora looks to Glimmer before back to Catra, and that was enough to give her her answer.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But this one’s interesting!” Adora argues.

“I’ve heard them all before,” Catra grumbles, walking past them. “You hear one before and then you’ve heard them all. Person dies horribly and then their soul is bound to the place they died in because of unfinished business.  _ Yawn _ .”

Glimmer pats Adora’s shoulder. “Someday, Adora, someone will appreciate your storytelling abilities.”

Adora sighs, but she then smiles, watching Catra walk on ahead of them. “Yeah, someday.”

Even with blankets of snow that laid over the woodland grounds, there were plentiful hues of brown to be seen, nearly matching the light hazel in Glimmer’s eyes. There’s a softness to it all under the playful light and in the serenity of the sounds of their boots stomping through, Catra’s faint mews after each chirp of a faraway birdsong. 

“Okay, Catra,” Adora states, stepping over a stark root, “can I ask you more questions?”

“About the past?”

“Actually no,” Adora turns her head to look at her after having saddled up to her pace, “I want to ask about your species in general. You know, werecreatures.”

Catra hums, waving away low hanging branches. “Well, if you must know, we aren’t just called werecreatures.”

“Just like how werewolves are also called lycanthropes?” Adora offers.

Catra snaps her fingers. “You’re right on it. Do you study this or something?”

“She has a notebook on supernatural things,” Glimmer cuts in. “Believe me, you’d just be reviewing stuff for her because she already knows everything.”

Adora pouts. “Well, this is still a learning period. Plus, it would be a good thing to make sure I’m right.”

“Why does this matter?” Catra asks. “Do you plan on telling others about the things you’ve found?” 

“No way. No one would even believe me.”

“Honestly there’s probably a cult out there for this, Adora,” Glimmer says, laughter in her voice. “You’ll find your audience one way or another.”

“I don’t want to though!” Adora insists, more to Catra than Glimmer. “I want this information for myself.”

Catra doesn't understand why, not like it would have any use to her as maybe how to do taxes or properly cook would.

“Alright, here’s what I can tell you,” Catra starts, already knowing she’ll have to repeat herself for Adora and her cursed notebook, “werecreatures can also be known as Therianthropes, Therians or -- I guess -- shape-shifters. Although, I’ve found ‘shape-shifters’ to be an outdated term.”

“Outdated? How so?” Glimmer queries. 

“Because ‘shape-shifters’ is so vague,” Catra explains, almost curtly. “There are already those out there that can actually shift into anything.”

“Wait, those actually exist?” Adora asks, eyes wide.

Catra doesn't answer her. “On another thing, between you humans and my kind, we have the capability of rapidly healing wounds that would be fatal to you. Although--” her eyes glance over to the claw marks in a specific tree trunk-- “fights among werecreature can also be fatal.”

“So, you guys are almost unstoppable?” Glimmer says.

“Definitely not,” Adora interjects. “I’m pretty certain if one is decapitated or stabbed in the heart, death is immediate. Right, Catra?” 

Said woman raises her eyebrows. “You’re correct.”

“And is silver still your biggest weakness?”

“You say ‘still’ as though we’ve ever had any other. Yes, silver is our biggest weakness. An injury cannot be healed immediately, and a well aimed blow can be fatal and not even the strongest skins are immune to getting pierced.” A branch shakes above her head from a bird taking off and she barely misses the snow that tumbles down. Upon walking on the pine needle carpet Catra finds it good to walk on; rather steady, a very ether of memories.

Although the idea of pre-dawn fills her nose with a musky scent of an animal;  _ her _ as an animal; of gnashing teeth in a frenzied feeding, the remnants unknown, but it still makes Catra’s stomach clench. She didn’t want to be that anymore.

“Silver restraints prevent werecreatures from transforming,” Catra suddenly says over the quiet crunching of snow. “And if applied tightly enough, limbs can be severed or they can even get decapitated when silver is applied around the neck and pulled on.”

The anxiety that suddenly sits between Adora and Glimmer is like being hooked up to a cattle fence -- beyond uncomfortable. Glimmer guesses that’s the downside of knowing things rather than living in ignorance. The idea of chaining someone down and leaving them in pain made her feel ill.

Adora is worried then over Catra’s pinched face, eyes staring off in front of her. How her heavy steps fall into her dragging her feet, slowing to walk behind them. There were things Adora wanted to do, coupled with her perceived failures that dominated her mind from past memories she couldn’t even remember. Suddenly her thoughts and words are found inadequate. Adora didn’t like the idea of why Catra brought up silver restraints.

“I know that actually,” Adora states. “Or, well, not the cutting off limbs or decapitation, but the lack of power to transform when it comes to silver.”

Glimmer joins, “Do you know why silver is your species’ weakness?”

Catra looks to Adora. “Since you know a lot, do you know the answer to this one as well?”

There’s sudden guilt that festers in Adora’s stomach. Catra was trying to be helpful here, for her to be the one to be needed. Adora swore she had issues with her memory; she lost keys, forgot appointments, couldn’t remember to go to sleep at a reasonable time like she planned. Yet every small detail about the supernatural: she knew. She also just somehow knew that Catra should be the one speaking.

“Actually, I don’t,” she lies, “how about you tell us?”

Catra looks like she knows that’s untrue, but doesn't say anything about it.

“Silver sulfide isn’t really toxic to any other animals,” Catra starts, “but it’s not a soluble in water, and so can only be ingested. In werecreatures, it would lift from the silver and travel through our bloodstream, blocking off blood vessels and poisoning our cells.”

For maybe a split second, Glimmer’s disbelief was suspended, the surprise giving her the inability to react. She wasn’t expecting such an answer that makes sense. Granted, she still doesn't quite understand the whole thing -- but she’s found that this is an answer she can take without more questions to follow.

Glimmer’s phone rings then, startling the three of them. The way it buzzes went off like an annoyed rattlesnake in her pocket before the annoying tune of a random pop song goes off. Adora watches her fumble to get it out, her mitten too thick to even shove down her small jean pocket.

“Damn it,” she grumbles, yanking it out finally, slipping off her mitten to answer the call. Of course, it’s the latest model, screen clean where Adora’s was cracked.

“Glimmer, hey! I missed you! Are you outside?” Adora recognizes Bow’s voice. She slows her steps to see him.

“Bow, you just called us nearly twenty minutes ago, and yes, I’m outside.”

Glimmer raises the screen and Adora can see Bow’s cheerful grin, still wearing that obnoxiously bright Christmas jumper that brings out his dark eyes. 

“Awe, but you know I love hearing from you guys. Plus, we got interrupted before. Oh, Adora!” he waves, “hiii!”

“Hey Bow,” she laughs.

“Why are you guys outside? Also how long are you going to be outside because, Adora, that sweater is too thin and you’re not even wearing gloves!”

Adora holds back a groan. How could she forget that Bow was the mom of their friend group? Even at near 6’0, his body was too small to hold all the concern and love for his friends. He was fresh air, clean water and rich soil. He was all the things they don’t realize they needed so dearly until it’s gone.

“I’m fine, Bow. Really, you don’t have to worry.”

“You say that, but what about that time you slipped into a freezing river and you had no warm layers on?”

“I was 16,” Adora complains. “Being young gives you the right to be an idiot.”

“Only to a certain degree.”

Adora huffs and walks a little faster, her long legs moving her ahead again. Catra moves up to fill in the spot Adora left before remembering she was in perfect sight of Bow.

“And who’s this?” he asks, eyes landing on Catra. “I don’t believe you’d told me you’ve made a new friend, Glimmer.”

Glimmer glances back at Catra, tracing her figure to be certain that her cat ears were hidden under her hoodie. Her tail had slipped out, swaying under the heavy layer, but it was easily out of view. 

“Uh, this is Catra,” Glimmer stares slowly, “we met at . . .” she looked at Adora who had paused, staring at her, mouthing something. “We met at the diner!”

Adora shakes her head, waving her arms, hissing, “no!”

“Yeah, and I met Adora there as well,” Catra adds quietly.

Adora looks frustrated and Catra just throws her hands up, asking silently what she had wanted her to say.

“Awe, I’m glad you’re meeting new people!” Bow says. “What made you bring her out to the woods anyways?”

“Adora has a hideout she wants to show us or something. We--”

Glimmer grunts after smacking into Adora’s broadback, nearly stumbling back onto Catra’s foot who then growls.

“Adora! What are you . . . ?” Glimmer tampers off, looking to where Adora was.

“Is that . . . ?”

“It is,” Adora mumbles.

Its muscles rippled under its thin white coat, powerful legs easily able to cross the small clearing with few steps. The cold wind wisped its chestnut mane into the air, ears perked as it swirled its thick neck, turning to face the new appearance of the small group.

“Glimmer?” Bow questions, “what’s going on? Adora? Hello?”

Glimmer opens her mouth, closes it and then finds the way to simply mutter, “horse.”

Adora moves forward. She settles in for a wait, checking to see how the horse would react to how close she would get. Adora stays still while the surprise ebbs away in the horse’s eyes as it finds the woman a non-threat. Even when Adora lays a cautious hand on its side, it just flares its nostrils like it was sighing.

“Adora!”

Bow’s voice startled her to turn around, realizing Glimmer had pointed the screen at her and Bow was seeing her in all her glory of attempting to get on the horse.

“Get away from it!” he scolds, near squealing, voice breaking on the last syllable, “that horse is probably wild!”

“There’s no way,” Adora argues, “by now I would have been kicked or bitten, and look--” Adora reaches out and ruffles the horse’s mane “--see? He’s fine.”

The horse snorts before Adora turns back to him, running her hand up to his back, giving the stallion pats for good measure, enjoying how it then looks at her with its blue eyes, going on to nibble on the hem of her sweater. She snickers, gingerly pulling away, ignoring how his eyes watch her as she bends her knees slightly before jumping, latching onto the horse’s back, careful on how she shimmied on top, laughing with victory.

“Bow, I’m gonna have to call you back!” Glimmer shouts before hanging up. “Adora!” she then hisses, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“It is,” Catra huffs, “I think what Sparkles means is  _ why _ are you doing that?”

“Because when do you usually get to see a horse?”

“Isn’t there a farm in the next town over?” Catra questions.

“How do you know that?” Glimmer says.

Catra shrugs. “It’s just because I get around. Anyways, are we going to stop her?” 

She points off towards Adora and Glimmer finds the horse walking off, their friend just happily along for the ride.

“Adora!” Glimmer shouts, launching herself forward to follow after. “Get down from there!”

“No way!” she laughs. “This is great!”

The two give chase as the horse clops his way out of the woods, a triumphant Adora gleaming still. Adora pats the stallion’s neck, his flowing mane bounding in tandem with his quick stride. Adora shifted her weight to her outside hip and dug her heel into his left side, and he picked up the command perfectly, tucking his head in.

“Adora, where are you even going?” Catra asks, falling into a jog when they hit an empty, dead road.

“The diner!” she chirps.

“What? Are you crazy?” Glimmer shouts. “It’s not like they’ll let you park a horse in their parking lot.”

“Of course not,” Adora scoffs, “that’s why I’m taking him in the back.”

Upon the horse, through the silent road by the rolling green hills of the countryside, Adora felt like a valiant paladin going on a quest--her pathway etched in her heart to get some hot chocolate in her stomach. Although, her friends following were still not pleased.

“Adora, I swear, I’m going to yank you down by the foot,” Catra snarls, fangs sticking past her lips.

“Try it then!” Adora taunts playfully. “I’ll just have the horse start sprinting.”

“Not before I can get my hands on you.”

When the diner comes into view, the two following take to silence. The building is viewed in isolation, and it was less than five feet from one of the loneliest roads in the town. It looked as inviting as it always has with its royal violet paint and trims of white. Adora can see the frost that clings to the name “ **Tin Platter & Co.** .” Outside, there’s a couple that stomps their boots before entering. Though Adora is in no hurry, she quickly manages the stallion to turn towards the back where the dumpsters sat.

“I should have stayed behind,” Catra grumbles, pinching her poor sensitive nose to the smell of greasy garbage.

Adora slips off the horse, grinning at her two friends before heading off to go grab hot chocolate.

“I should just get this horse out of here,” Catra says, glaring at the stallion that huffs, breath fogging in the air.

“Don’t. That’ll just upset her,” Glimmer warns. She wanted Adora to be happy with something even if it was temporary. She earned  _ something  _ from all the hard work she poured into everything; work around the house, tutoring, athletic endeavors, studying. That poor woman didn’t know what a break was.

“Well, it’s not  _ her _ horse.” But Catra doesn't make the move to scare the stallion away.

Glimmer sighs. She should call Bow back, but she wanted to at least wait until the problem was resolved. Bow didn’t deserve to worry about their best friend being an idiot. Speaking of Adora, Glimmer thought of the diner as their spot. They first met on the hiking trail near this area. Their first meeting wasn’t exactly . . .  _ pleasant _ . Glimmer remembers the hair pulling, bared teeth and yelling over something that was probably inconsequential. She was just thankful that Bow was there to stop the fight.

Glimmer had taken her here to the diner -- one of their first places they hung out at (other than the parade at the time) as an apology. It’s been a while since she’s sat inside and ate their greasy food, but she still remembers the small rickety tables, the plastic tablecloths with children’s coloring papers left at each chair. Adora had actually loved those.

They had sat down with mugs full of sweet honey tea, sausages and fried eggs in large portions that would surely leave them with stuffed bellies. Servers wore grease smeared aprons, their casual garb smelling of smoked meat. The staff had coarse language and slang when they talked with each other, but they held genuine smiles.

Glimmer rubs her hands together, blowing hot breath against them. She wishes she had joined Adora inside. That way she could warm up and listen to the quiet smooth jazz from the jukebox. Most likely playing  _ All Blues _ on repeat because one of the usual patriots couldn’t get enough of it and no one was mean enough to tell them off.

“Order up!” Adora chirps as she returns with styrofoam cups.

Glimmer is surprisingly pleased when Adora gives her a cup. She slips off her mittens to feel the warm drink heat up her palms. For her, her hot chocolate has to have milk -- most of it to be milk actually -- with heaping scoops of real cocoa mixture. Glimmer needs those dashes of vanilla with the whip cream and hot fudge sauce drizzled on top. Maybe while she’s drinking her fill, she should swallow her sweet tooth with it.

Adora shared her sentiment, obvious by the cream moustache above her lip after tipping her cup back to drink. Catra just quietly sips her with near kitten licks, picking at the styrofoam top.

“Here you go, Swiftwind,” Adora coos and hands out a slice of something sweet in a napkin, “I assume you must be hungry. It’s carrot cake!”

“Adora, don’t feed the horse cake.” Glimmer then pauses. “Wait, Swiftwind?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I named him!”

“You named it?” Catra asks, looking rather dumbfounded. “You do realize you can’t keep it right?” 

“Why not?”

“ _ Why not _ ?” she repeats, irritated, “because you don’t own a stable nor a field, or any equipment to take care of it.”

“We can buy those things,” Adora urged, and Glimmer nearly chokes, spilling some of her hot chocolate on her jacket. She hoped Adora realized how horrible of an idea that is considering they were just college students that got lucky finding a nice place because of who Glimmer’s parents are.

“Sorry, Adora,” Glimmer interjects, “but I’m with Catra on this one. We should call the police or something.”

“The police?” Adora questions, eyebrows shooting to her hairline. “What are the police going to do?”

“Probably take the horse and return it to wherever it belongs. Probably the farm near here. That is,” she glances at Swiftwind, “if that is where he came from.”

“Has to,” Catra says. “That horse is too friendly to be a wild one.”

“I guess so. I don’t want to be tried for horse theft,” Adora sighs, “but that means I get to take care of Swiftwind in the meantime.”

Glimmer puts her hands up. “Fine. Just don’t tie it down to one place like a dog. Especially not where people can see it.”

“Deal.”

“I’m not a part of this,” Catra mumbles quietly. “I don’t associate with you people.”

Adora pats Swiftwind’s side after crushing her styrofoam cup in her grasp, tossing it into the trash.

“Let’s go ahead and get home then! I’m sure I have a nice place to put him.”

********

“Do you think horses eat granola bars?”

“I doubt it, Adora,” Glimmer answers. “Also, what happened to the carrot cake you bought for him?”

“I . . . ate it on the way back.”

Glimmer snorts before cupping a hand over her mouth. “I’m not surprised. You wasted my amazing pancakes this morning.”

Adora gives a shy smile, bashful. “Sorry, I was distracted. I promise I’ll make you something in return.”

“Oh yay, I get to clean up the burnt mess you leave over again,” she teases.

“It was one time!”

“Not,” Glimmer corrects.

Huffing, Adora hops up from where she was crouched, searching in the fridge. “I found some leftover baby carrots!”

“Are those even good anymore?”

“I think so?” Adora opens the bag and sniffs. “Seems fine to me. Okay, I’ll be right back. You two behave.”

“No promises,” Catra calls after once she’s out the door.

A silence then settles over them, other than the tapping of Catra’s claws against the table. There’s unsettled eyes glancing at the other and Glimmer shuffles her feet against the carpet. She’s reminded then when she was a young child and how she would hide behind her mother; her long legs an escape from the strangers that would try and talk with her: her old preschool teacher urging her to have her introduce herself to the class. Her mother was her shield. But she has to concede that she's grown up now, having stricken her own path. She would have to be her own protection (although her legs would never compare to her mother’s in height).

“You good?”

Glimmer blinks, looking up. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You just looked like you bit into an orange -- skin and all.”

Glimmer laughs and it comes out rather timidly. “You really do have a vendetta for oranges, huh?”

She scoffs, “Of course. They’re disgusting and who else in this household is going to be against them?”

“Whatever you say, pussycat. Anyways,” she stretches, reaching her arms above her head, “I’m going to my room. You can take care of yourself, right?”

Obviously, she’s just teasing, but Catra is quick to state, “I’ve lived on the streets for a long time.”

Glimmer smiles, eyes rolling.“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a mess of anything.”

Catra doesn't know why, but she watches her plush figure disappear down the hallway before she enters her room, not particularly feeling negatively or positively as she shuts her door and she is left alone. 

Sighing, she heads over to pull the curtains together, but pauses, looking down at the sill. There were jagged ugly lines dug into the wood. It hits her that it’s new and it was clear they were left behind by claws. She leans forward and takes a quick whiff. She barely grabs it, but there’s the smell of something musky and it smelled of the earth.

Catra stood there, her heart suddenly throbbing, fur rising. Something clicked. It wasn’t the first time she’s had that scent fill her nose. It was an animal that’s idiocy was quite special to some people; of a raw bundle of energy that was crammed into a shape several sizes too small. 

It was the smell of a dog.

Catra knew better though. Knew that this dog -- this canine -- was a werewolf. She knew then that there was a werewolf that had gotten inside the house.

Catra feels as stiff as a corpse by the way her muscles tense; no longer feeling of a woman of soft flesh and fur. There was a whirl of thoughts to search the house, go find Adora, tell Glimmer her findings, but it’s all distant and she instead just shuts the curtains after moving a potted cactus with the name “Prick” written on it duck tape over to cover the marks.

Catra takes in a deep breath, encasing her claws into her palms of her flesh, letting her nails puncture the skin. A little pain never hurt anyone. She sits at the table again, keeping her hands drawn together. Maybe then the shaking would stop.

She would have to keep a very close eye on the house tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took me this long to get this chapter out. I'm coming up with things as I go alone and I'm planning another Glitradora story that is going to be longer.


	4. Cats, Bear and Wolves, Oh My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to Adora!

The week had crawled by more slowly than Catra thought was possible. She sat during long nights, watching the shadows shift, ears perked. Sometimes she’d find herself out on the porch, the cold urging her to return inside, but the fear keeping her rooted there. The smell of the werewolf never left her; never left the image of a stranger in their rooms, hiding away when they were home and they never could have guessed. They could have been watched for who knows how long, and there was never a sign until now. Catra has barely slept even though the days were quiet, with still phones and soft scratching of Adora’s pencil as she wrote away in her notebook. There were still sweet, tangible breakfasts that left her full with warmth and filled energy. Adora and Glimmer still had that soft light in their eyes, conversations lasting well into the afternoons until the sun was setting and reminding them that sleep was important. She could rest by their sides with easy comfort, more attached than she thought was possible to Adora’s rambles and Glimmer’s retelling of crazy dreams.

Swiftwind proved to actually like Adora and ended up sticking around. He apparently just couldn’t be found again when the police sent out animal control to deal with the supposed “wild” horse. Although Swiftwind almost seemed to understand what was happening and ultimately disappeared into the woods before coming back when Adora went out to search for him. Catra had watched Adora go out a lot for Swiftwind after Glimmer gave up trying to give the giant lug away. Adora was so insistent on caring for him and, granted, she was doing well for someone without any proper equipment.

But that didn’t stop the worry in Catra’s mind. She still hasn’t mentioned a thing about the claw marks. What loomed over her was a remembrance of the past, what trailed behind her was an uneasiness and had no way to remain in the present no matter how much she wanted to. She keeps her gaze casual though -- no hint of hesitation to laugh with Adora or banter with Glimmer. She had to when she was sitting with them for days.

For some reason Adora insisted to stick with her regardless of whether or not what Catra was saying is genuinely interesting.

“The paternal line is the biggest factor in inheriting their Therianthropy, but there are rare cases that the maternal line will become the dominant one,” Catra explains. “There are few I know that inherited Therianthropy from their mother; Casper being an example. Lady Shah is a werehawk, while his father, Count Vega, is a wereshark.”

“A wereshark,” Adora mutters in wonder. “Wait, who’s Casper, Lady Shak and Count Vega?” 

Catra shrugs. “Just some dead people in history. I don’t know, this kind of stuffed was shoved down my throat when I was young and I spat it out when I could.” 

It’s obvious Adora is still hanging onto each word, her pencil moving quick to scratch something onto paper. It was such keenness to learn; into trying to patter the questions burning in her mind. Adora has barely looked up since Catra started talking, and so both Glimmer and Catra gazed freely at her hunched form, pencil still moving with fervor. There’s something about her, Catra thinks, something that gave a sign of confidence but a deflated ego that sometimes had Catra muddling her thoughts. Even under her furrowed brow with concentration and the deep shadows that spread across her face, she still looked like sunshine when she finally pokes her head up, seemingly done writing.

“So,” Adora smiles, closing her notebook, “anyone up for a jog?” 

“Nope,” Glimmer huffs, plopping back onto her plentiful pillows. Catra had to agree with her. 

“Awe, come on, you guys are able to.” 

“Well, I don’t know about Sparkles here,” Catra says, “but while I have the stamina of a lifetime, I just don’t want to.”

Adora sighs. “What about a walk then? I think Swiftwind could really go for one.” 

Catra hums before an idea came to mind. “I think I know a place we can go to then.”

Adora perks up. “Really?”

“Totally. Remember that farm I brought up way before? Well, I think that would be an interesting stop.”

Glimmer side eyes her for a second, but Adora was beaming and that was worth half of what Catra had in mind.

“That sounds great! Maybe there’s other horses there!” 

“Yeah, probably,” Catra yawns, eyeing her claws, tailing twitching flippantly. 

Glimmer watches Adora step out of her room, a pep in her step.

“Okay, wait, this farm,” Glimmer starts, “are there actual people here?” 

“Nah, I brought the place up because it’s a great idea to get that horse back where it belongs.” 

Glimmer gives another look that reads something like disappointment. “I’m not sure about that. I know the horse is probably able to take care of itself, but still--”

“Come on, Adora will be just fine. Plus, you guys won’t get in trouble if it still turns out that horse belongs to someone.”

Although, Catra was starting to think the horse really was just an odd case of a friendly wild horse. Glimmer still doesn't seem pleased, but goes to change out of her pajamas, kicking out Catra as she did so. Catra then just settled herself downstairs, slipping on an old pair of sneakers that Adora was gracious enough to give her. Thankfully they weren’t that used -- only slightly beaten up. Catra believes that Adora gave them up because her feet already outgrew them. Although, Catra wished she could remain barefoot. There was an infusion -- an exchange of energy when she traveled without shoes upon the ground. It was especially pleasant in those cozy months of bright sunshine and whittling wind. The fine wands of grass tickling her soles, the natural, calming grace of dirt that was just meant for her. Maybe that was the wild cat that was in her blood or maybe it was the human being that still craved nature like the past ancestors. 

Sighing, Catra sinks down further into the cushions. She hated thinking sometimes. She should be grateful for having a meal every day, a warm couch to sleep on, and a roof over her head. She shouldn’t miss the outside; the alley ways, dumpster diving, and the crude comments of people whether she was human or cat. Plus, she had Glimmer and Adora; a short, angry temptress and her childhood friend that was still as dense as a sack of bricks.

They were home now.

There, then, the two came out of the hallway, embracing the elements as they strided side by side. Adora in a white woolen shirt, jean jacket tossed on, her trousers loose with pockets and Glimmer wore a hoodie that barely hugged her curved frame, looking more like a red safety blanket. When her back was turned, Catra could see the lettering of a football team. Of course, Adora lets Glimmer take her sweatshirts. She didn’t expect anything else from the two of them.

“Alright, hope you two don’t mind coming with me to search for Swiftwind,” Adora says.  
Catra bites down on a sigh. “I guess we don’t have any other choice.”

“Didn’t you say you had a place for him?” Glimmer asks.

“Well, yes, but,” Adora shrugs, “it’s not like I force him to stay there.”

“Yeah,” Catra crones, “that’s to be expected. Lead the way then I guess.”

The walk back through the woods reminded Catra that nature was still lush even though it was going through the fight of winter. Catra finds that she could hide away her old thoughts here; bury them away where their lynching chains couldn’t hold her.

“Hey there, bud,” she coos, and pats his side as he knickers. “Hope you enjoyed my hideaway.” 

“Wow, you brought him to your little hideout, but not me?” Catra teases, “I see how it is.” 

Adora tsks. “I would have, but we were interrupted by Swiftwind here,” she smiles, “I promise I’ll show it off to you tomorrow.”

“You better.”

They take the dead road again by the countryside, but this time, Catra leads the two out into the fields.

“It’s a shortcut,” she explains, and when they hesitate, she shrugs, “unless you guys want to walk a few extra hours . . . ?” 

They immediately follow after.

The hills are a patchwork of brown and white made more varied by their heavy casted shadows. Snow clothes the scrubby grass that was too poor to even put flesh on an animal. Ahead, there was a pale brown path that was rutted with constant footsteps in the saggy soil that was now frozen mud. It was enough to twist an ankle in the soupy marsh. In each depression is a small icy puddle and Glimmer grimaces. 

“I’ve come to regret taking this direction.”

The forest trees are thin, and Adora wasn’t sure if what was ahead was a glade. Adora is the first to lead through with Swiftwind in large strides, stepping over tall reeds. Glimmer still cringes as she follows with the utmost caution, regretting the sight of rocks and trunks, damp with snow and a smattering of moss.

“Remind me again why we followed you through this way?” Glimmer questions, feeling her boot sinking, mud squelching as she yanks, nearly losing it.

“Because this is one of the quickest shortcuts I know. Again, unless you wanted to take potential hours --” she glances back-- “then we’re taking the path through this stupid bog.”

“You know, I should have chosen the extra steps. I could finally shed off these extra pounds,” Glimmer says, playfully patting her stomach.

Adora frowns. “You don’t need to lose anything though, Glimmer. Who told you that?” 

“Myself,” she states before laughing, patting Adora’s bicep. “Thank you though. Means a lot coming from the woman with abs.”

The mud started to lay in uneven patches as the sloped concrete of a farmyard came into view. The smell of manure hangs thickly over the subtle scent of something more ripe. Catra pinches her nose and stops Adora and Glimmer from moving further, taking bigger whiffs although her nostrils burned of the horrid stench.

“Would you two be able to stay here while I check something out?” Catra asks, slipping off her jacket. “Carry this by the way.”

“Um, why?” Adora stammers, seeing Catra starting to strip off her shirt.

“I’m shifting,” she narrows her eyes, “quit gawking you idiots and turn around.”

The two spin around immediately, nearly tripping over their feet.

Adora could hear Catra grunt, and she imagined the blood running from her face as she hunched up on the ground, skin bubbling, layering over each other; and she heard the bones shifting and snapping. Adora barely catches a glance back and catches Catra’s fur splitting like tree bark before layering and doubling into something thicker and darker. 

She shivers, amazed but incredibly intimidated as she looks away.

Adora then feels something nudge against her back leg and she glances back, finding that Catra looked the exact same as the first night she found her, but her fur was cleaner, more well groomed than just the glide through with a barbed tongue. She had gained more weight in the week that she has stayed even if she didn’t share every meal with them.

“That’s . . .”

“So cool!” Adora squeaks, “how do you do that? Is it just you have to think about it or is it like --” she gestures vaguely -- “does it just come naturally?”

Catra just stares up at her, confused if Adora was actually awaiting a response. Glimmer elbows Adora in the ribs.

“Ask her questions later. Let Catra do whatever she needs to do.” 

Adora flushes pink before nodding, letting Catra start off in a trot to the farm. 

“I guess it’s better to have her explain it while I have my notebook with me,” Adora states.

Glimmer shakes her head, laughing. Everything always came back to her notebook.

There was a poorly constructed fence, wooden planks withered and decayed. Chicken wire was torn open and seemed to flex and bow as Catra wiggled her way through, hissing as the wire caught her fur. She sees further to her right there were a couple of stables, wood as rotten as the fences, corrugated metal roofs now housing wild animals, fattening them up with insects and rats. Catra saw a pig pen, but of course, nothing inside other than filth and the single muddy corpse of something Catra couldn’t quite decipher. She saw a mangled leg with a hoof, and then another splayed out away from the body.

Catra strayed away from it and closer to her main inquiry. The barn had a smell that wafts over her. Catra sniffs a little closer at the chipped russet-painted door adorned with tired hinges that creak like the moaning of a cantankerous old man.

********

There was a puff of a sweet, musty odor of summer straw. Then there was the undertone of the stuffy musk of animal fur and the stank of something else old and dried up, and the sharp taste of oil and metal. Her eyes had to compensate for the dim lighting of the paller of fairy lights that were strung everywhere on the dusty frames of wooden stalls and poles and the heavy bosom of a loft that hung from the ceiling. Catra spots some birds that have made themselves at home up in the rafters. 

There was a sudden creak of a floorboard, a squeal in the silence of the barn.

A bear saunters out then, bringing the consciousness of its new guest with it, the intelligence that Catra was an intruder. Its eyes were both black and yet auburn with a similar style of something human as it gazes down at Catra.

Werebears were a new breed of fear.

The bear stands on its hind legs, taller than any man; a model of pure strength. Its teeth became exposed in an angry fashion -- sharp white daggers, hanging inside a dark cave ready to slice Catra’s body open and gnaw on her bones. 

Catra runs, a bellowing bark following after her.

When Catra’s paws hit the earth, they gain their own rhythm. She was used to this; used to the zone she’s created. Distance was all that mattered. Catra wonders of the perspective of her chase, if they could fathom being chased by an animal ten times bigger than them.

Catra’s paws slip outwards on mud as she rounds the trees, cold evening air shocking her throat and lungs. She was gasping to inhale deeper. With each footfall there’s another to match behind her by the monster. Catra leaps up a tree, breath coming out in small spurts -- nervous and frantic. Claws dug into the bark, mud having already smeared her face, sweat matting her fur. Her heart pumped, hearing the bear bark up at her, swinging its paws up as it stood on its hind legs, and she felt a panic scattering into her trembling limbs. She wishes then she was one of the stars in a movie. Being chased then meant nothing. The main character was in command, following a script, certain to see the next scene. Reality was so far removed from that pretty version when you’re running to save your skin. 

There’s a sudden thundering of hooves that splits the tension as Swiftwind burst through, Adora right on top, grasping tightly on his mane. The horse slides away from the bear as Adora holds out a lasso. She tosses it out and it slides around the monster’s thick neck before she yanks with all her strength, sending the bear to fall backwards in surprise.

Catra blinks down at her apparent knight in shining armor.

“Come on!” Adora calls, gesturing, “hop down.”

Catra can barely move before the bear bowls Swiftwind over, sending Adora tumbling off and hitting the ground with a thud. Adora groans, rubbing her head before she takes a sharp inhale, crawling backwards as the bear growls, lumbering towards her.

If there was hatred seeable in the air, it would have been maroon. Catra moved then, jumping and latching onto the bear’s back with the intent to skin it. There were no holes barred when the two started fighting. Catra pulled at fur in handfuls, scratched while the bear kicked and tried stammering its attacker into trees. She tore into knotted muscles, splattering the snow with red. Catra wasn’t bothered by the encrusted rings of blood on her mouth and paws. Her head jerked back, quickly moving as the bear slammed its back into a tree. Arrogant as she could be, Catra never left herself open. The bear was fast, but Catra was quicker and focused as it continued trying to buck her off.

Catra slips off when the bear rolls on the ground, finally pressed to rid itself of the wild cat. Not staring at its eyes, she looked at its chest, the center of all its attacks. She could see its shoulders and waist whenever it swiped at her, and Catra only greeted it back. She came under its soft underbelly, grabbing it with claws and fangs,  _ hard _ .

It bellowed, froth falling from its rubber lips. Catra digs into its hanging gut, tearing into the soft underflesh of its belly, intending for the muscles and bones to crumble like cereal. It’s like Catra was hurriedly trying to get in -- like she had no hands and it was all just sharp talons and pointed bones.

“Stop!” someone calls. “Stop!”

It’s like Catra’s anger and hatred faded and was replaced with a familiar complicit numbness, like she was just watching herself.

Catra wasn’t surprised the bear fell when she moved away, spitting bloody drool onto the ground. It layed slumped, chest rising and falling in great depths. What did surprise her was a young boy that clamored to sit next to the great bear, resting a hand on its heaving side.

The boy looked plenty young. Catra took it in from where she stood in front of Adora. The lack of muscles, the round cheeks and the quiet shake in his voice as he murmured to the bear. It was as deep as any teenager’s boy would be. His thin blonde hair hung over his face, hiding his pale face and wide brown eyes. His movements were fluid, matching his buoyant voice that made his concern heard. He couldn’t be any older than 17.

And he couldn’t be anyone else that Catra knew except one person.

The sound of snapping bones caught Adora’s attention and she looked down, meeting the bare backside of Catra, her undergarments in tatters and barely hiding anything that should be hidden. Her tail idly moves in place.

“Clothes!” Adora sputters, squeaking. “Catra, clothes!”

Catra glances back, ear twitching before the cold wind brushes her fur and she realizes what Adora is trying to say. 

“Look away you idiot!” she hisses.

“Sorry!” Adora claps her hands over her eyes. “I swear I don’t mean anything by it! You’re really pretty.”

Catra’s cheeks dust with pink before her eyes snap to Glimmer who had finally managed to catch up, Catra’s clothes in hand with a rain sheet for horses in the other.

“I knew I should have brought this,” Glimmer states, face red from running as well as Catra’s exposed taut muscles. She ungracefully tosses the clothes and blanket on Catra, ignoring her cursing. 

Glimmer looks ahead at the sudden appearance of a dark skinned woman and young boy before she sees another person had joined them. Or another  _ thing  _ had joined them, wrapping the werebear in a blanket.

The humanoid lizard had the eyes of moving marble, and a strong body of green honeycomb that covered muscles. The creature was a mosaic of nature and scales, looking as cool as moss against the snowy forest.

Glimmer was gobsmacked, unable to say anything, but didn’t have to before Catra asked, “Lonnie? Rogelio? Hell,  _ Kyle _ ? What the hell are you all doing here?” 

She stands, awkwardly shuffling her clothes back on under the rainsheet. 

“And why the hell did you attack me, Lonnie?!”

The woman huffs, looking up at them. “I haven’t seen you in years and you smell like some pampered little kitten. Can you blame me?”

“You smell like cow shit and yet I could have guessed who you are! Yes, I can blame you!” 

Rogelio moves his hands and Adora realizes he’s signing something to the young boy.

“‘Who else has yellow and blue eyes?’” Kyle translates for Lonnie.

Lonnie growls, but doesn't seem anywhere near furious. Instead she tugs the blanket further around her, fully getting the feel of the people surrounding her before she stands, blood dripping on the ground by her toes, coloring the snow maroon.

“I guess with the ‘threat’ dealt with, I can finally ask where the hell the both of you have been,” Lonnie states, referencing both Catra and Adora.

“I’ll explain, but you need clothes and bandages first.” 

Lonnie sighs. “True. Fine, let’s head to the farmhouse then.”

“You guys better have central heating,” Catra says. “I’m freezing my tail off.”

“Don’t worry, we have the generator up and running!” Kyle offers. “You can thank Rogelio and I for that.”

The silent lizard grunts.

The trek there wasn’t long as the farmhouse was decently only a yard away from the barn. The farmhouse looked like it started off small with simple walls and then a box porch, but then branched off after many years by the many extensions that had made it grow large but awkward. There were “wings” that jutted out in different shades of wood and brick -- still the same local clay in the river from there, but markedly different hues and level of weathering.

“How long have you guys been here?” Adora asks, holding onto Swiftwind tightly.

“A while,” Lonnie answers curtly from Rogelio’s back, having given into letting the lizard carry her so she didn’t have to walk in the snow.

The house felt oddly welcoming as Catra stepped in from the open doorway to the wide hallway. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with deep homely browns that were washed away with the walls as white with a tint of aging yellow; color trying to meet a bold bland baseboard. 

Lonnie heads down the hallway for clothes while Rogelio goes to stoke the fireplace. Kyle switches on a lamp, and under the shine it was all obvious how old the building really was.

“Uh, you guys want any water?” Kyle stammers as the group sits, “maybe coffee? Lonnie probably has mixtures around here somewhere.”

“I’m not thirsty,” Catra utters.

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” Glimmer says.

And because they didn’t want anything, Adora didn’t either. Adora couldn’t even think. She knew then she had amnesia. Some sort of roadblock. Adora is aware she’s forgetting, but couldn’t fathom what it was. As if following a crumb trail until it suddenly hit a wall. They were selective though. She could think of Lonnie’s anger, remembers the swears she could put forth. Kyle and Rogelio learning sign language, quiet laughter in bunk beds and something that was safe and loved.

But it was the orphanage, and that left a bad taste in Catra’s mouth.

So something happened in those walls -- in those walls that Adora had a block in the path.

“Alright, Catra,” Lonnie states, coming out from whatever room she left, “can you explain why you’ve decided to now show your face? Also why is Adora giving me bug eyes?”

Catra glances at her companion before sighing. “Look, I don’t even know honestly. We came here thinking the farm was abandoned.”

“Can I assume it has something to do with that horse out there?” 

Adora perks up. “Yeah! Did he come from here?” 

“Yeah, I believe he was. He was part of the small group of horses we chased away.” 

“Chased away?” Adora parrots. “Why?” 

“If you know anything about werecreatures under a full moon, you’d know we did those horses a favor.”

Catra thinks back to the corpse of minced meat in the pen, covered in dried, cracked mud and brown blood. She had to agree with Lonnie. 

“Actually, Adora knows quite a lot,” Glimmer interjects. “She has an entire notebook for this kind of thing.”

Lonnie eyes Adora, a look she couldn’t really read. “May I ask why?”

“Because she’s obsessed,” Catra states, waving her hand before Adora could protest, “moving on: why are you here at this farm?”

“We didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Lonnie replies. “After we finally escaped the orphanage, we found our way here. Not the best place, but better than when we were living with . . .  _ her _ .”

Catra takes a breath. The spreading of purple with yellow blotches was only the surface wound back then. It was the bruising that was left over on the inside; the breaking of trust, the manipulation, the instilled fear. All because of her. Forcing Catra and the rest of the kids to seek safety elsewhere with someone or something that wouldn’t cause them pain. Give them the idea of a future when their caretaker wouldn’t.

“Okay,” Catra says, “and, what? How long ago was that?” 

Lonnie tsks. “Six -- five years? No one’s really keeping count.”

Rogelio signs. 

“It’s been almost seven ears exactly,” Kyle relays.

Lonnie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Whatever. Now,” she lays a leg over her knee, “where have you been?” 

“The streets. You know how it is.”

“Do I though? I saw you one year and suddenly you were nowhere to be seen.”

Catra shrugs. “I went wherever supplies were. I went from town to own, grabbing any resources I could before leaving.”

Adora and Glimmer look at her, eyes fixed with concern.

“I just got lucky with Adora stumbling into me. After that, I’ve been staying with them.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“About a week now.”

Lonnie looks to Adora, and her lips twitch downwards. “You don’t remember, huh?”

“Remember? You mean . . . ?”

“The orphanage,” Lonnie fills in. “The Fright Zone was what we called that area of the town. The Horde we then called ourselves. Anything ring a bell?”

Adora hits the roadblock again. She could glance around it, but never see the full scene ahead. She has to shake her head. Lonnie looks saddened and it hurts Adora. She can’t quite put a finger on her relations with these people, but it was simply familiar how pained they collectively looked.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Catra utters, standing and heading for the front door before anyone can say anything.

“Is she okay?” Glimmer asks. 

Lonnie looks elsewhere. “I’m sure she’s okay.” She doesn't sound certain though.

Adora gazes out to where Catra was, itching to follow after, but couldn’t make herself. Her questions were weighing her down. Instead, Adora starts asking more questions, wanting to paint her own image of the past -- or at least a sketch before she starts coloring and detailing.

Lonnie was willing to help and even model it.

Lonnie gives what she can with the help of Kyle and Rogelio. There was a time they had created a recycled plastic slide that snaked and turned. They made it outside using a tree to climb up before sliding down, creating their own little backyard -- a small playground when they weren’t allowed one. There were nights they laid together like a litter of kittens, pushing their mattresses together, covering others with blankets because they were too thin and Catra and Lonnie held that light pelt of fur to warm their friends.

There was yelling sometimes.

Laying in their collective bed, and hearing their caretaker scolding kids unfairly. Apparently Adora and Kyle cried, Lonnie and Catra seethed, Rogelio too small at the time to understand.

Adora would push her face into Catra’s shoulder and Catra into their blue blanket that was splitting at the seams because their caretaker didn’t care to get them a new one. Adora would think of the kids leaving, maybe with them as well. Flee the abuse. Flee the shared nightmare.

Until Adora did.

Catra there remained with nothing but their blanket.

Resilient until she wasn't.

Glimmer snuck her way outside, stepping onto the porch to see Catra hunched up, sitting on the steps.

“You’re going to freeze out here,” Glimmer says.

“It’s not that bad out here.”

“I can see you’re shivering,” Catra sighs and Glimmer braves stepping closer, “you okay?” 

The long pause before she mutters, “sure,” was answer enough. Glimmer plops herself down beside her.

“You’re going to freeze out here,” Catra parrots.

Glimmer shrugs. “You’re right. It’s not too bad out here.”

Catra hums, almost amused. They sit there, admiring the snow, the way it winked under the sun before they’re just talking -- Catra quiet and the other leading the conversation. Catra says something then -- Glimmer responds. Glimmer jokes -- Catra laughs. There was unexpected banter, and Glimmer elbowed Catra a couple times, getting comfortable.

Then there’s a familiar silence that follows.

“Catra?”

“Hm?”

“About that orphanage,” Glimmer starts, “I heard quite a lot. Maybe more than i should have, but I keep hearing about this ‘caretaker.’ You guys keep bringing her up, and I’m just wondering; where did she go? It just seems like the story jumps around. One moment she’s watching over you guys and then suddenly you all are by yourselves.”

Catra looks out over the farm. “We ran away. Simple as that.”

Glimmer’s brow furrows. “I know she was terrible, but . . . she didn’t even try to do anything?”

Catra scoffs. “Maybe I should have explained better. Weaver disappeared after Adora left. Then we followed suit.”

Glimmer sees the drawn shoulders, the resigned tone. Catra just seemed exhausted.

There’s gentle arms around Catra then, pulling her close to Glimmer’s chest, hesitant. Despite the heaviness in Catra’s stomach, it flutters. Catra sunk into the offered warmth. The touch made the past less bleak when she realizes what was her present.

They walk back inside and Catra smells the strong scent of coffee. 

“Believe me, we aren’t going back anytime soon,” she hears Lonnie say. “The gang fights aren't worth the building.”

“Gangs?” Catra questions, “since when were gangs a worry?”

“Ever since there’s been a surge of hunters. Werecreatures need some sort of hideout.”

Catra huffs. “Guess so. Alright,” she gestures, “we have to get going anyway.”

“Thought so.”

“Hey, wait,” Adora speaks up, “I know it’s been . . . a while since we’ve seen each other, but would I be able to ask for a huge favor?”

Lonnie raises a brow. “What is it?”

“Would Swiftwind be able to stay here?” she asks quickly before raising a hand, “and I know that’s a lot, but I don’t really have the money to take care of him.”

“ _ Now _ you finally say it,” Catra mumbles.

Lonnie’s lips press into a thin line. “Didn’t you hear what I said when it came to why we chased out those other horses?”

“Well, you didn’t give details--”

“I don’t need to.”

Kyle raises a hand. “I wouldn’t mind looking after him.”

Lonnie glares back at him.

He shrinks back into his chair, hiding behind his mug before Rogelio signs. Kyle perks up.

“Rogelio says he’ll help!”

Lonnie tosses her hands up. “You guys never listen to me!”

Rogelio grumbles, moving his hands again.

“No, we’re still not getting a dog!”

Glimmer clears her throat. “Can you guys take the horse or not?”

They share a few more words before Lonnie groans.

“Fine, we’ll take him in. Adora, you owe us,” she looks back to her own companions, “and you two are responsible for looking after him, as well as cleaning out a spot for him in the barn.”

“Okay, okay,” Kyle resigns. 

Adora smiles. “Thank you so much you guys.”

“Yeah yeah, what are friends for?” 

********

They walk out, Adora saying goodbye to Swiftwind with a hug, murmuring something to him. 

“Hey, Lonnie,” Catra says.

She turns. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to ask . . . do you think she’ll ever come back? Like, come looking for Adora?” Catra asks quietly. 

“I’m not sure honestly, I would hope that the old hag is dead. Why do you ask?”

Catra describes the claw marks she saw in the windowsill, relaying her worries. 

Lonnie’s face darkens. “I still don’t know. Just keep an eye out.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

Lonnie chuckles without actual humor in her voice. “Yeah, I can tell. Seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

A very good question. Catra shrugs. “Couple days ago? Does it matter?”

Lonnie gives her a look. “Just try and get some sleep. I don’t think your girlfriends would like you dropping dead.” 

Catra goes to retort, but then stammers, “wait, we’re not--!”

Lonnie was already making her way back inside. 

Catra tries to ignore the thought that enters her mind as she follows after her friends. They barely make their way out of the farm before Catra spots movement in the corner of her eye. The other two see it too.

A cat pads through the snow, head hanging low. Its pelt was matted with mud and dust. She could see its ribs jutting out under the thin fur. In the renewed silence, only its eyes glowed. They aren’t yellow like an illustration, but the softest of blues -- like they had soaked in the coldest glacier. 

Catra actually steps towards it, offering a hand. It hisses though and hurries away.

“At least you tried,” Glimmer offers.

Catra grunts.

They make their way out, but Catra could see the cat following after them, barely disturbing the ground under its paws. Then, like it forgot its intention was not to be seen, it sat preen. 

“Is it actually following us?” Adora asks. 

“Think so,” Catra replies.

Glimmer sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is the worst case of déjà vu.” 

********

The cat did indeed follow them all the way back; even through the bog, the long field and the lonely street. Adora laughs, slotting their home key in, opening the door before the cat bolts inside, startling her.

“Jeez,” Glimmer grumbles, “please don’t tell me we’ll have to bathe that one as well.”

Adora raises an eyebrow. “You say that as though you helped me bathe Catra.”

“Well now I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Can the both of you shut up?” Catra huffs, walking past.

They follow her, chuckling.

“Take out sound good?” Glimmer then asks, shucking off her jacket.

“Anything that involves food sounds great,” Catra mumbles, plopping onto the couch.

“Alright, Chinese food it is,” Glimmer says, slipping out her phone.

Catra sneezes then, warming herself up from the cold with a blanket. The black cat peeks out from under the couch, and mews, tilting its head.

Adora snickers. “I think it’s trying to talk to you.”

“Yeah? And if I could guess, I think it wants to be fed,” Glimmer teases.

“Good thing I’m already on my way to do that,” Adora states, heading off to the kitchen. 

The cat smells Catra’s tail before scurrying away when Adora returns, cans of fish in hand. She slides them over before sitting beside Catra.

“How do you feel about watching a movie?”

Catra shrugs. “I’m indifferent.”

Adora pulls up a streaming service on TV, allowing Catra to pick something before Glimmer slides in to join them.

Already, no amount of expensive equipment could make up for the lack of plot and poorly written characters. Each actor stands around delivering their lines with less feeling than a kindergarten play. Their only saving grace was an actor who played as a sly lizard, but even their acting couldn’t save this roadkill. The night was saved when their food arrived, the cat sitting next to Catra, and Adora teasing her for it.

“It’s almost like it understands you.”

“Honestly, that wouldn’t be too far off,” Catra states after chewing on some chicken. “Must I remind you I’m part cat?”

Adora’s mouth forms a little “o.”

“Then you can actually under it?” Glimmer asks. 

“Not quite. I’m still human after all, but . . .” she glances down at the sudden vocal cat meowing at her, “i think I’m catching something like a name?”

Adora’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? What is it?”

Catra concentrates, words barely piercing her understanding before she relays, “Melog.”

Adora blinks. “Melog?” she repeats.

“That’s what I’m hearing.”

“We really are just a group of weird names,” Glimmer mumbles.

Adora smiles. “I take it as another thing that brings us all together. Oh! Speaking of being together,” she suddenly goes on, “the next full moon is next week! It’s called the ‘Full Cold Moon.”

Catra swallows, feeling her nerves frayed when Adora looks at her.

“You said something about showing me something during the next full moon, right?”

Catra nods. It was a stupid statement she said in the moment, wanting to show off a gift of nature for Adora. She didn’t even think she would have stayed around this long.

“Yeah I did, didn’t I?”

“What is it?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Adora huffs, but takes that answer, turning back to the garbage playing on screen.

The lingering light was abilitered by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and purple transformed into a vast expanse of blackness that engulfed the town. The clocks ticked away, reminding Adora how much time had passed. With a stretch and a yawn before, Catra had finally fallen asleep, snuggled right up into Adora, cocooning up in the blanket.

Adora and Glimmer share an amused glance before Adora slowly starts slipping out, gently laying Catra down onto a pillow, tucking her in. She can catch the quietest sound of purring.

Glimmer kisses pads of her two fingers before pressing them to Catra’s forehead, passing by Adora, who was putting their plates in the sink.

“Goodnight, Adora.”

Adora waves, yawning. “Night, Glim.”

Adora quietly shuts her bedroom door, eyes already drooping. She tosses off her shirt and pants, clambering into bed, snuggling up in her sheets. Her mind edges on the feeling of dreams before she hears the quietest scrape and the swish of wind.

Adora blinks, but doesn't move to look out her curtains. They may be of thin satin, but she was certain an animal couldn’t see in. 

At least, she was decently sure it was an animal.

There was the temptation to say something to Glimmer, knowing she wouldn’t have gone to sleep immediately, probably having decided to scroll through her phone. But Adora didn’t want to disturb her. Thinking about it, it was just a couple of noises, nothing to worry about. Plus, with the knowledge of werecreatures being real, there was no real threat that Adora felt she couldn’t handle.

Sleep returned to her then, pooling in her eyelids and it was just released with the soft sound of rustling sheets, gradually ebbing away through the crags of nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this came out okay. I've never really written action like I tried to do here.


End file.
